


hooked on a feeling

by dupesoclock



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Slow Dancing, drinking buddies, just.... guys being dudes, pre-release fic, soft shit ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 04:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dupesoclock/pseuds/dupesoclock
Summary: i'm high on believing // that you're in love with me--Becoming a Vault Hunter wasn't the first questionable decision Zane had made, nor would it be the last. In fact, getting himself comfortable on this ship was arguably worse, and getting acquainted with someone like Hammerlock was the worst of all.





	hooked on a feeling

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to rarepair hell
> 
> probably gonna make this a multichapter series so watch out for that. also probably gonna refine this once bl3 is released or like. retire this idk. hopefully not
> 
>  
> 
> anyways zane is a feral irish dilf and we stan
> 
>  
> 
> also i made a playlist for them so like imagine any of [these songs](https://open.spotify.com/user/3twwd0swql275wt5lhmcclie4/playlist/1Ax7CGKgSx3upkoAFzi5mE?si=eAexGA9yQfycsY-wVUgHSw) playing in this fic. though by the fic title my choice was hooked on a feeling by blue swede

He’d only been in the occupation of Vault Hunter for a short time, but the accommodation was nice, one of the better ones he’d had in his career. Zane found comfort in the individual private space of his quarters, in the open space of the inner city, and especially in Moxxi’s bar, where he often found himself. Sat in the corner watching the door, he held a bottle of rahk ale by the neck between his forefinger and thumb, slowly spinning it against the wooden table idly, with his other hand curled into a fist, with his knuckle against his cheek. Anywhere else in the world could have been less painfully boring than this, but if it was going to be anywhere, at least it could be someplace where he could grab a drink. Moving his hand to grab around the neck of the bottle, Zane brought the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head with a slight growl. While he wasn’t one to turn down the comfort of an alcoholic drink, some of them were bitter and, quite frankly, distasteful, even by his standards. Didn’t stop him from taking another drink and having the same reaction, though.

Moving to nurse the body of the bottle, the operative looked to his right, watching the barmaid Moxxi with vague interest. The lady of the establishment - and a damn fine one at that - was certainly a beautiful woman, and the little conversation they had had over drinks was satisfying enough to tell him she was a smart one, too. If it hadn’t have been for the drink, he’d have come for just that alone. She was cleaning the counter with a cloth, gently stroking the surface with it until the countertop sparkled in the artificial light, looking up every so often to talk with one of the citizens sat to her side. Seemed polite enough. He was about to look away if he didn’t see Moxxi look back towards the entrance of the bar, and seem rather surprised.

Following her gaze, he watched as an older gentleman, rather fancy in appearance, entered the bar and stood at the counter. He engaged in conversation, as polite as previous, though Moxxi seemed to be more open to him than the other poor sucker. Zane tapped his fingers and took another drink, watching the man straighten his hat with his thin prosthetic arm and lean with his arms crossed against the counter, shaking his head at Moxxi’s supposed question, before he followed her point right to his own corner. He paused his drinking and, with the bottle still to his lips, waved with a free hand. Well, this was certainly going to be interesting.

Just as he put his (now empty) glass bottle back onto the table, his eyes met those of the rather handsome stranger who’d slipped into the seat in front of his, as booths like these usually worked.  
“I heard from our charming leader Lilith that I could probably find one of the new Vault Hunters here, and I’m assuming that to be you, yes? ...If I am interrupting something, I do apologise-”  
“Nah, yer good. ‘Nless yer plannin’ on buyin’ me another drink?” He smirked as he tapped his fingers against the side of the empty bottle, and folding his arms against the table.  
The man chuckled. “I will consider it part of my payment, if you wish to help me.”  
“Oh? And that would be with… what, exactly?”  
“Well, complexly put, I am looking to expand my almanack further than the creatures of Pandora. More simply, I’m looking for hunters of more than the vault variety.”  
Zane stared for a moment, before humming and leaning back slightly. “I’ve hunted a lot more dangerous game. Now, how about that drink, eh?”  
There was a pause, before another chuckle, as the moustached gentleman stood to his feet, and headed back towards the bar.

Sir Alister Hammerlock was as charming as he was handsome, and as they talked over a bottle of whiskey (not normally his drink of choice, but hey, a drink’s a drink) shared between two crystal glasses supplied by the bar, Zane had found himself quite charmed by the man. Attractive in his own right, but his mannerisms were rather fascinating - talked with his hands a lot - and topics of interest centring around animal biology and trivia. And though he often found himself lost with no idea what the hell was being said to him, in any other case he would have tuned out, he only found himself more absorbed and even interested, to an extent. Their conversation by now had gone through the terms of the job - like he’d stated, hunting animals on the planets they went to, to which he would then write about in turn - and now turned onto more personal matters. Previous occupations and now, discussions of previous life experiences and so forth.  
“At one point,” Hammerlock tipped his glass for a moment to look inside at what little whiskey was left in it, before gently grabbing the bottle and topping off a little more. “My sister was in accommodation of the establishment.”  
“Sister?”  
“Indeed. Didn’t stay for very long. Found the lack of faux fur too exhausting for her tastes, most likely. She returned back home, to do… whatever it is she does in her spare time. Shooting puppies would be my best guess.”  
“Don’t hold ‘er in high regards, then?”  
“Hardly. She’s not necessarily a bad person, but… incredibly grating. Gaudy. What you would call a ‘high-roller’, by all accounts. And not the charitable kind. Still, good riddance, as far as I’m concerned.”  
“Oh, aye. ‘Ere, ‘ere.” Zane raised his glass in acknowledgement, before gently putting it down again. He’d had his own share of family trouble in the past. And if antagonising your no-good terrible siblings wasn’t the way to deal with it, then he’d be damned.  
Hammerlock responded in kind, even laughing a little. “Here here, indeed, my friend. ...And what about you?”  
“Mm?” The operative opened an eye just as he knocked his glass back, finishing the rest of the whiskey in his glass with a satisfied exhale and a forceful smack of the glass against the table. “Me?”  
“Indeed. You wouldn’t be here if things were hunky-dory in the family home, right? ...Of course, I don’t mean to intrude-”  
“Nah, s’fine, yer alright.” A dismissive wave as Zane went to grab the bottle, having to tip it considerably far to coax out its contents in order to get a considerable drink. He squinted at the bottle for a moment, swirling it in the air to check the quantity, before clicking his tongue and placing it back down. “Not much to be said, really. Left a big family of absolute arseholes to start my own. And when that plan went tits up, left that, went about business.”  
“A business of… murder?”  
“And a damn profitable at that.”  
Hammerlock found himself laughing a little, raising his glass once more. “Cheers to that, my friend.”

  
There was a small pause for a moment, before their glasses touched with a quiet ‘clink’ in toast, drowned out to everyone but them in the white noise of the bar, layered over a musical track that was just changing. Zane recognised the song just enough as it tickled the back of his memory (old, crackly - first heard on a distant radio, perhaps?) and lingered among the fog of alcohol intoxication that was wafting in like a cloud. He bought the glass to his lips to drink the last of what he had, and paused as his eye caught sight of Hammerlock’s hands nursing his glass. Of course, the first thing he noticed was that one was metallic - a prosthetic he honestly hadn’t seen until now, and a damn fine one at that - and the second was that, in time with the distant beat of the music, a finger was tapping against the crystal glass he held somewhat delicately. The operative smiled to himself, almost laughing into his drink as he knocked back liquid courage, and finished off the last of his whiskey.  
“You know this tune?”  
“Hm?” It seemed to pull him out of his own thoughts as he looked up from his own reflection in the bottom of the glass, dumbfounded for a moment before a wave of realisation washed across his face. “Oh! Um, yes. Though I cannot for the life of me remember where from…”  
“Mm.” He nodded, leaning forward a little and lowering his voice, slowly smirking. “Say, Alister, you dance often?”  
“I...Pardon?” He blinked, following Zane as he stood to his feet, moved out of his seat in the booth and next to him.  
Slowly and deliberately, he extended a hand, the other held behind his back. “Just a quickie. If ya’ve got two left feet, promise I won’t say a word.” He winked very quickly, trying not to laugh as he watched Hammerlock fumble slightly in a flustered state, losing his composure for a string of seconds before clearing his throat, and looking at the hand extended to him.

He took it after a moment, and was pulled to his feet, with his arm outstretched and his other hanging by his side, soon being guided by a grip at this wrist onto Zane’s hip. Hammerlock found himself laughing, despite how visibly embarrassed he was. “I, er, I hardly think this is a song to slow dance to.”  
Zane shrugged, and moved his hand from Hammerlock’s wrist to clasp onto his shoulder. “Not with that attitude. C’mon, just one lil’ go.” He quickly tilted his head as a signal to go, watching as Hammerlock almost analysed him for a second before going forward with a step to the side, to which Zane quickly followed, looking down as to not step on his toes.

It was clunky and slow, sure, but there they were, in Moxxi’s bar… slow dancing. Zane could say he’d had worse nights, on missions and such out in the wastes of planets halfway across the galaxy from here, and much less comfortable, and while he barely managed to stop himself from stumbling a handful of times, they were still upright by the end of it. And from glancing up from the floor every few seconds, he caught a small smile from Hammerlock, his face soft and cheeks dusted lightly with a drunken blush. His heart squeezed for a second as he almost started to stare, quickly looking away again.

As they came to an eventual stop, they parted, with their hands falling out of one another’s slowly, almost not wanting to let go. And for a few moments, they just stared at each other in silence… before Hammerlock started to chuckle to himself rather quietly, hiding his face with his hand, but not enough to hide his smile.  
“...What’s so funny, eh?”  
He paused his chuckling for a moment to look through his fingers. “Ah, my apologies, but… you asked if I was a terrible dancer, and yet-”  
“Psh.” Zane cut him off with a dismissive waft of his hand, before folding his arms, setting Hammerlock off again into a fit of giggles, hiding his face in both his hands now. The operative watched and blinked slowly, before smiling to himself. There was something more intoxicating than the drinks they’d been sharing between them all night, it seemed.  
The laughter slowly came to a stop as Hammerlock wiped the tears from his eyes, and he looked up again, face red from embarrassment and whiskey buzz. “Well, I suppose I should be heading off, then-”  
“S’pose so. ...Unless, of course, you’d want to take this elsewhere?”  
There was a pause for a moment, before Hammerlock quickly inhaled, finally catching Zane’s drift as he seemed to stiffen hard as stone in embarrassment, quickly squawking out a “Goodbye and goodnight, Mr Flynt.” before he left in a rush.

Zane chuckled and waved as Hammerlock quickly left in a power walk - something the operative could say he hated to see but loved to watch - lowering his hand to reach and hold onto his glass in a claw, gently moving it in a circular motion as he sat on the edge of the table, slipping his other hand in his pocket. His smile faded, and he was left with only a veil of alcoholic fog to keep him company. Thoughts could barely crawl out of the cloud of whiskey, but enough to leave him with a questioning he didn’t much care for.

Was he willing to do this all again?

He’d fallen in love, once before - and heaven knows where the woman was now. He certainly wasn’t jumping at the chance to trek across Pandora to find her again. And that only ended with him leaving when things got too serious - tie downs weren’t his thing, he was too old for that now, in most cases. And yet… home felt right within the confines of this ship, with Hammerlock sat across from him and in his arms… Zane growled in frustration to himself, the intoxicated euphoria from song and dance sliding away at any prospect of future, raising to drink from an empty glass before he paused and shook his head, practically slamming it on the table, and raising to the bar to grab another bottle or three of rahk ale.

Perhaps through these, he’d find answers, or at least comfort away from the what ifs.


End file.
